Avada Kedavara Means I Love You
by Path Walker
Summary: Ronald Weasley is a wizard on the edge. Slight AU and Shonen Ai
1. Chapter 1

Avada Kedavara Means I Love You

By PathWalker

Chapter One- Unholy Alliance

Another Hogsmeade weekend. They made such a big deal of them in third year but now, I could see them for the cheap novelty they really were. However, it seemed I was the only one. My weekends were ususally spent wandering the grounds alone now, trying to avoid the first and second years. When had life at Hogwarts become so boring? It was then I saw Ronald Weasley heading towards the lake. It was like some etheral being was looking out for my sanity. I could always rely on the Weasel when I needed entertainment.

"What? All alone today Weasel?"

He continued to walk as though he didn't hear, but he couldn't hide those red tipped ears. So predictable.

"Is it that you finally decided to stop pretending you can afford thing in Hogsmeade, or did big oaf need to train his successor?"

"Just-shove-off." He continued walking.

"Oh, little Potty isn't here to wipe your nose?"

There it was, that predictable flare of temper. His fist balled, ears redened, and jaw clenched. I could play him like a violin.

"That's right, your only Potter's little entourage. Why would he care about you when he's to busy posing for the Daily Prophet. The world would be a better place if he weren't in it."

"I agree."

The answer came so quick I almost didn't register it, or the punch to my face. I was on my back with the Weasel wailing into me before I knew it.

"Boys boys!" It was McGonagall pulling him off me. "Honestly, I have never seen such a violent rivalry. I expect to see you both in my classroom for detention this evening. Is that understood?"

We both nodded, the weasel's eyes never leaving mine.

"Now off to class, both of you."

He walked away, leaving me to ponder what had just happened.

-----

That night after dinner, we met in McGonagall's classroom, where two sets of buckets and rags were waiting.

"You two will clean every hard wood surface in this room. Mr. Weasley, you will take the left side while Mr. Malfoy will take the right. Need I remind you that magic will be prohibited for this task?"

We both muttered a "No Professor."

She nodded before briskly exiting.

"So, is it true?" I asked, after a long silence.

"Yes." His answer came quick and with venom. He stiffly cleaned a table. "I hate the fact that he's so famous, and star seeker, and- everything!"

He threw his rag across the room. "He's just a regular kid, like me, but he gets everything. All the fame, all the breaks, all the attention, my own family treats him like he's some living god... His shadow is so big that no one can withstand it."

The last bit was said so quietly I barely heard it. A long silence followed his answer. I couldn't believe it. The Weasel had finally tired of the "great" Harry Potter. It was almost laughable, but for some reason, I couldn't. There was something solem about this moment. I had been treated to the rare site of the Weasel seething at someone other than me.

"So what are you going to do abut it?"

"Huh?" He had obviously never thought of that before because he looked up in total surprise.

"I said, 'what are you going to do?' You don't plan on just sulking do you?"

There was a long pause as he pondered this, his arms at his sides and head bowed in contemplation.

"No," he said in time. "But what can I do? I can't just walk up to him and say 'Harry, you ruined my already miserable life' and Aveda Kedavara him."

"Why not?"

This made him stop his pacing and look up in shock. He looked so pleading, so helpless, I could no longer restrain my need to rattle him.

"Oh, you poor, poor weasel. You've never practiced the fine art of Kanly have you?"

His ears turned that familiar shade red that almost matched his hair.

"I thought not. Tomorrow night, we'll discuss his fall."

He was going to make a smart remark, I could see it. But suddenly all the anger drained from his face, skepticism taking its place.

"Why are you helping me?"

I hadn't thought of that. Why was I?

"We are two men aiming for the same goal now weasel. I may hate you, but I utterly loathe and despise Potter. As far as I am concerned, you are just another asset in my own plans to destroy him."

"How do I know this isn't just some trick?"

"I could ask you the same, but you wear your heart on your sleeve weasel, you always have. Its all over your face that you're through with 'perfect Potty.'"

He shifted under my cool gaze. He knew it was true, so I pressed him further.

"And although you're not comfortable with the idea of betraying your only friend for the last seven years, in the morning you'll have to sit next to him. You'll have to see his fans, his face in the prophet, and all the advantages that just fall into his lap. Then, you'll look to me at the Slytherin table, and give me one good nod. And you'll do it, because you'll have accepted my offer."

I walked out of McGonagall's room, my share of the work being done. I left the weasel standing there, lost in the recent swirl of events.

----

Morning, as all mornings at Hogwarts began with the usual staples: pumpkin juice, and a banana. I nibbled on my meager breakfast, watching Crabbe and Goyle argued over a muffin while Pansy fawned over me as usual. I accommodated her, after all, she was only doing so to keep up appearances. We were to married at the end of the year, whether we wanted too or not. As I absently wondered how Millicent was taking the news, I got the feeling I was being watched. I looked up and there he was. Face full of contempt, the weasel gave me one, curt, nod, as I knew he would. I returned it (ever so slightly) and went back to my breakfast. I'd owl him instructions later.

A/N: Kanly is vendetta- an often prolonged series of retaliatory, vengeful, or hostile acts or exchange of such acts.


	2. Chapter 2

Avada Kedavara Means I Love You

By PathWalker

Chapter Two- The Art of Kanly

"Alright Malfoy... I'm here."

Its amazing, how jealousy can make one susceptible to the will of others. He had met me in one of Hogwarts many abandoned classrooms as I had instructed, and was already looking exsaperated.

"Then let's start with some basic principals of vendetta: Knowing what you're aiming for, and the point is always suffarge. You want your victim to be the recipiant of ironic justice; to feel the pain you have. In this case, you must focus on taking back what is yours, and breaking the spirit."

"What's mine?"

"God weasel, do I have to spell everything out for you? You are a pureblood. A poor, low status one, but a pureblood all the same. Potter has no right having a higher social status than you."

I'm not sure weasel understood my logic there.

"With my help you will bring Potter to his knees. The only thing I require in return is that when the time comes, you let me extract my own revenge."

The weasel bowed his head in thought.

"So do you plan on taking him to the Dark Lord when this whole revenge business is done?"

I was honestly surprised, and I know it showed.

"What? No!"

"So you don't support ... You-Know-Who?"

"Oh quite the contrary. I hate mudbloods as much as the next self-respecting pureblood," there was that shade of red again. "But a Malfoy bows to no one."

"Someone should have told your father."

I was seeing red. He knew my buttons as well as I knew his. I would expect no less of someone I have been fighting with for the past six years. However, I caught my reaction before it rose to the surface.

"A small matter," I said cooly. "No, I want to Avada Kedavara the bastard myself."

Shock covered the weasel's face. Honestly, what did he think the Dark Lord would do him?

"...Ok."

"Now, its important that you let nothing in your current relationship between you and Scarhead change."

"So does that mean no fights?"

"No more than usual. You have a great advantage weasel: You are in your emeny's personal circle. You'll know what he's thinking, his fears, his secrets. He trusts you weasel, and as long as he trust you, you will never be implicated."

The Weasel nodded.

"Now, we need to find a way to seperate Potter from his adoring fans- make them loathe him"

"Ooo! I got it! Leave that one to me."

The sudden excitement had certainly caught me off guard.

"What is it?"

"Nuh uh, its a surprise, just pay extra attention in Ancient Runes for a while."

He ran off, leaving me utterly confused.

-----

"Its been a week. What's he waiting for?"

"What did you say Draco?" Pansy asked as she fiddled with the stones before us. This year the Slytherins and Gryffindors were taking Ancient Runes together with Professor Binns. Each student had their own pouch of rune stones with which to study, and Pansy was absently knocking hers together as she eyed Millicent with a depressed look. I almost felt pity for my fiancee, it was clear Pansy's "social obligations" were straining their relationship.

It was then that Potter's little entourage walked in. The Weasel was engrossed in some conversation about quittich, and their mudblood was buried in a book. I was sure that the Weasel had chickened out (he never had much of a backbone.)

"I should have known..."

"Alright class!" Professor Binns announced. "Lets get started, everyone take out their rune stones."

There was a sudden gasp, and immediately I turned toward the Gryfinndors. Silence reigned as Potter stared at the contents of his pouch, shock evident on his face. Amongst his rune stones, the Scarhead had a bright red triangle with a ring on the end.

"What's that mate?" Ron finally asked, but Harry seemed to shocked to anwser.

"Its a buttplug!" Seamus shouted, finding his voice. Muggles across the room broke into uproarious laughter.

"Didn't know you swung that way Harry!"

"Runes get you all hot and bothered, eh Potter?"

"It-It isn't mine!" Potter croaked at last, but the damage had been done.

"WHAT _IS _IT?" Weasley screamed, his frustration evident.

"A buttplug," the mudblood began, a regular dictionary. "Is a device used for... sexual stimulation. You put it in your... behind to stimulate the prostate in males, although some women do enjoy it."

"So the Scarhead uses it on you mudblood?" I called, starting a new scandal.

Professor Binns droned on, seemingly unaware.

---

At lunch, Potter's sexual appetites were the obvious subject.

Ron sat quite a distance form the golden boy, sending his questioning looks.

"Stop being such a baby Ron! Harry said it wasn't his."

Ron slowly inched his way closer to Harry, albeit reluctantly.

"I really don't know how that- thing ended up in my pouch."

"Bad luck, getting found out and all."

"I not gay Ron! And I don't stick chunks of plastic up my arse, someone set me up."

"Oh, like with the Goblet of Fire?" Ron exploded. "Well Harry, this may be news to you, but the whole world is not out to get you! Why would you-know-who want you to look gay anyway? Just face the facts mate: You've been caught."

With that, Ron stormed out of the great hall, a flurry of whispers following.

"Weasel didn't like your advances Potter?" It seemed Draco had appeared out of no where. "Well, at least now we all finally know why you kept him around. Have a thing for red-heads do you?"

---

"I must admit that was bloody brilliant Weasley!"

"Thank you, thank you." Weasel bowed mockingly.

"How did you think of that?"

"Well, Harry's already a parcel tongue, and been accused of murder. It's like no matter what happens to him, it never tarnishes his reputation for long. But that's because everything that had happened was so extraordinary. I figured that best way to permanently take him down a notch was to make him look like everyone else."

We both knew that making him look gay was a FAR cry from everyone else. The wizarding world did not look kindly on homosexuality. The number of pureblood wizards was small enough without losing potential future wizards to same sex relationships. Potter would be practically shunned.

"Where did you get that plug thing though?"

"My dad," Weasel said, a little to quickly. "You know his job at the ministry."

"You Weasleys… It's hard to believe you're even pure bloods."

"Don't insult my family Malfoy! We are just as pure as you."

"Oh Really?"

"We had primary tutoring, just like you."

"And who taught you, your mommy?"

"Yes, because she loves me. When is the last time you saw your mom huh? We may be a brood of destitute, muggle loving traitors, but at least we love each other."

I couldn't believe it, but that hurt. The last time my mother even touched me was when my father was sent to Azkaban. The Prophet had come to interview us on the tragedy. Her hand had been cold and unfeeling on my shoulder.

There was a long silence.

"We took ballroom dancing too."

"That explains your two left feet."

"And piano."

"Figures you'd all learn the same instrument."

"Well, what do you play?"

"…Piano."

Weasel smiled, and I realized I had made a sort of joke.

"Actually, I play violin."

I snorted. Weasel's long slender fingers screamed pianist.

"No really. I hate the piano. My mother forced me to learn, but I never really enjoyed it. So my Dad found my Great Great Grandfather's violin and gave it to me instead."

"Figures it would be a second rate hand me down."

I expected that same indignant face, or for him to start shouting, but Weasel just smiled.

"Accio violin."

In came gliding a matted old violin case on which the engraving "MW" was barely visable.

"It belonged to Marcus Weasley, my Dad's Grandfather."

I was about to state that was quite obvious when he opened the case. In lay a violin fashioned of ebony. Polished and finely tuned, it seemed to defy the concept of time.

"See Malfoy, not all hand me downs are second rate."

I would never tell Weasel (though I'm sure I don't have to), but I was thoroughly impressed with the instrument. Then he began to play. Oh did he play. I could not help but openly stare in wonder as the Weasel changed before my eyes. He was confident, standing to his full height with a look of serenity as he manipulated the instrument in his capable hands.

"Malfoy?"

I realized Weasel had stopped playing and was staring at me, a cool smile on his face.

"Wow Wealey, you're actually good at something. What was that anyway?"

"Some of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto."

"Who?"

"A muggle composer."

"Figures."

I suppose he didn't hear me, because he just put the violin away. When he looked at me once more, his face was serious. Time for business.

"Now that everyone thinks Potter is a kinky pouf, he'll do what he always does when he's upset."

"Go to the quittich pitch?"

"What- no! Come on Weasley even I know this one."

A mintue of silence.

"You Weasley! He turns to you and the mudblood for support."

"Her name is Hermione."

"Whatever. Anyway, our next move is to 'distract' the mudblood-"

"Hermione."

"-Whatever, so that he feels completely alienated, and there's only one sure fire way to distract a self conscience, goal oriented girl like her."

"A boyfriend."

"Exactly, and who better than the bot she's had a crush on since third year?"

"Who?"

I looked pointedly at him.

"Who? Me?"

"Yes you! She's liked you for years! Why is it that you are so completely blind to anything that has to do with you?"

"Because I'm insignifigant."

How did he keep catching me off guard like that?

"I'm just another of the Weasley clan: Poor, muggle loving, same red hair and freckles. The friend of the famous Harry Potter and the smartest-"

"Oh enough of that," I dismissed him with a half-hearted wave of my hand. "We don't have time to lick the wounds of your pitiful ego. You are insignifigant because you make it so. You are a great vioinist, a genius chess player, you were even a good quittich captain. Now, do you want revenge on Potter or not?"

To my surprise, he reined his depression (albeit barely) and nodded.

"Now, only you can sucessfully seduce the mudblood-"

"Hermione."

"Whatever! While you keep her happy, I'll continue to turn the school against dear old Scarhead."

"But Hermione's like, my sister!"

"Just do it numbskull! unless, of course, you want me to do it."

"No! You keep your hands off her!"

"Good, because I don't touch mudblood's anyway."

Ah, there was that red face I had grown accustom too.

---

A few days later, Ron found Harry in their common room.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Look Harry, I'm sorry-"

"For running out on me again? Everytime I need you most you run out on me Ron!"

"Did I run in the Chamber of Secrets, or in the department of Mysteries? Harry I'm on your side."

"Except when the other students are against me." Harry sulked in his chair. With a sigh, Ron came behind him.

"You scared me alright? You've been in my house, seen me vunerable and well, I never could figure out why you liked me around."

"Because you're my best friend Ron." Harry turned to him in all seriousness, grasping his arm. "What other reason do I need."

There was a moment where Ron felt guilty for what he had done, but then Harry laughed.

"Wait you thought I liked you? God, Ron you're as bad as the rest of them."

"The rest?"

"Yeah, eveyone has been totally avoiding me, except Dean. He won't stop looking at me."

"Right, well, it could be worse."

"How?"

"It could be Neville."

"RON!"

The youngest Weasley male let out a laugh.

"Seriously mate. As weired out as I am, I'm here for you."

A/N: I'm not a big Harry Potter fan, so if some of this story doesn't coincide with the series, my apologies.


	3. Chapter 3

Avada Kedavara Means I Love You

By PathWalker

Chapter Three- A Mistake

Weasley had been doting on the Mudblood for several months now, and I had to admit the plan was working brilliantly. Potter was completley alienated from the rest of the school (thanks to me), and now without the trio to fall back on, he was sinking into a deep depression. The weasel had done well, yet there was something bothering me. Perhaps it was that his smooth, pureblood hands were roaming her filthy mudblood skin, or that they looked genuinely happy. I began to wonder just how much of his affection was fabricated. It occured to me that our plan could go to Hell if he developed "feelings" for this pawn. I'd have to speeak to him.

---

That night, during our prefect rounds I cornered him outside the Astronomy Tower.

"What the Hell are you doing?!" He whispered as I slammed him against the wall.

"Exactly how close are you to the mudblood? You can't risk all I've worked for so you can have a romp in her knickers."

"I'm not jepordizing anything you pouf!" He hissed back. "And incase you've forgotten, it was my idea to put the butt plug in his runes bag. I have just as much to lose as you do, maybe more. Now if you'll excuse me, I suppose to be meeting _Hermione _any minute now."

The Weasel tried to push passed me, but my experiance in quittich had made made me stronger, despite my size.

"Don't fuck with me Weasley."

"I'm _not _fucking with you! I'm not in love with Hermione. I don't even like g-"

His protest died on his lips. He was looking past me with a surprised look on his face. I turned to see the mudblood staring at us.

"It was you? _You _did that to Harry?"

I wasn't sure if she was going to cry or hex us.

"Hermione-"

"Don't Ron. You're suppose to be his best friend, but you're working with him?! And I- I'm just a pawn in your game."

Now I was certain she was going to cry.

"After all we've been through," she continued. "All the secrets we've shared. I can't believe that I- that we-"

At this point I expected Weasley to spew some long, heart felt apology and promptly hex me to save face. He was after all, betraying his so called best friend. How trust worthy was Wealsey? However, as the mudblood continued to hyperventilate all he said was:

"Yes Hermione, I've betrayed you."

Our wands were out before I realized it. My Expelliarmus was accompanied by Weasley's Silencio. Our Petrificus Totalus hit her before she had time to move. Frozen and disarmed, the mudblood lay before us, terror still evident on her face. Oh I was going to enjoy this.

"You see mudblood," I started nonchantly playing with my wand. "No matter how many books you read, you'll never be able to duplicate the strength of the magic running through out viens. Here, let me show you."

My Crucio was swift and unrelenting. It was strange, watching her body try jerk against the Totalus spell, her wide eyes spilling tears, utterly silent.

"Draco, don't torture her!"

He used my name. I was so shocked I actually did stop, turning to him in surprise.

"She knows, we can't let her walk away."

Before another word was said, I used the killing curse.

Silence prevailed in the dark hall.

'We couldn't risk it," I whispered, looking at the lifeless body. I couldn't look at him. They had been friends, after all.

---

The mudbloods' funeral was attended by the whole school. Granted it was a requirement, but people were there all the same.

McGonagall had praised her as a hero of the war. Even her mudblood parents were there, donating her books to the school library.

"Her dream was to pass on the gift of knowledge, and what better way... Now that she's gone... Than to pass on her books to the school she loved."

It was ironic really. It was knowledge that had been her downfall, and now that she was dead, she was the most popular girl in school.

Weasley was really crying, while Potter looked torn between comforting him and continuing on his own downward spiral.

As for myself, I actually felt guilty. Now that I thought about it, I could have used the Obliviate curse to erase her memory among other things, but I had gotten caught up in the moment. I was intoxicated with the control I had over her, and wasn't thinking clearly. However, it would have been suspicious if I showed any remorse at the funeral, so I had done all my vomiting in disgust the night before.

I waited a few days before contacting Weasley again- out of respect.

"Look We-"

"I told him it was his fault."

That made me stop in my tracks.

"I told him, that the Dark Lord wouldn't have killed her if she wasn't his friend."

Speechless. For the first time in my life. He made Potter think it was his fault! It was so devious, so cruel- and took a lot of resolve.

He cried, and I let him.

"I wish- we didn't have to."

"I know Weasley," I said, ackwardly patting his back. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know some people may be wondering why I killed Hermione instead of using a memory charm. The answer is simple:

1: I thought it would be more dramatic.

2: I don't like her. In fact, I don't like any of the Harry Potter characters, but they are so well developed, I had to use them. Don't get me wrong, I think the series is good; I just can't find one character I really like.

Avada Kedavara Means I Love You

By Path Walker

Chapter Four- Avada Kedavara

Potter looked shabbier than usual: His over sized clothes were wrinkled and slept in, his hair completely unkempt, and his glasses were missing.

"I never understood why he dressed that way."

"Easy, he's poor, like you."

Weasley ignored my comment as he moved his rook. We had taken to playing chess after her death. It seemed to help him. I looked again at the image of Potter in my scrying mirror. He was still eating alone. Longbottom had tried to cheer him but had been quickly brushed off.

"No he's not. His parents left him a fortune when they died. He's loaded."

I moved my bishop, absently wondering if there was a way to relieve the golden boy of his tiresome burden.

"You remember the Yule Ball?" Weasley interrupted. I humored him with a nod as he moved his last pawn.

"He had gotten himself this special tailored dress robe, knowing that I had to wear- I don't know what. Why couldn't he get me a nice robe too, so just once- I wouldn't look poor."

I internally sighed. Weasley was being reflective again; trying to convince himself that this next act was necessary. I had been indulgent until then, but he was beginning to make me lose _my _nerve.

"Its not Potter's job to be you benefactor. Maybe he dresses like that so as not to attract false friends who are only interested in his money."

"Or muggles have poor fashion sense. Checkmate."

I almost laughed.

"Besides," I inquired, putting the game away. "If it looked that bad, why didn't you charm it to look better, or transfigure it at least?"

That made him think. Its always the simple answers that elude us.

Potter rose from the table, dour and alone.

"Its time."

Weasley hesitated for just a moment, before springing into action.

-.-

I was waiting. I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately: Waiting for Weasley. I don't like waiting, because it gives me to much time for idle thought. For instance, noticed that, while it was my idea to ruin Potter's life, it was Weasley who had orchestrated each phase with flawless expertise. It must be his tactical chess players mind. It amazed me how Weasley's brilliance was often overlooked, even by me. He seems like such a slacker, but it's not his mental capability that's lacking: He's too emotional, and often acts on impulse rather than facts. However, if he'd set his emotions aside and _think things through,_ he could manipulate people as easily as the pieces on his chess board.

I wondered (again) if Weasley would actually go through with this. He had made it clear that he did not want Potter to die, and questioned if I really had the gall to kill him. What had happened to her was a mistake, and I was unprepared for the consequences- it was different with Potter. This was purely pre-meditated and deemed necessary for my part: Every breath he took offended me.

I could hear them rounding the corner, but did not bare to look. They were taking leisurely pace,and there was no need for me to jump out and startle them. The sunlit corridor was deceptively soothing scenery for the event about to take place. I had chosen it myself.

"Harry, there's something I have to tell you."

I knew it.

"What Ron?"

"Its my fault Hermione's dead."

I just knew it.

There was a pause in their conversation.

"Don't be silly Ron-"

"She was meeting me!! We were suppose to skivvy out on our prefect duties and go to the Astronomy Tower!"

I was seething. From where I hid I could see Potter holding the little weasel, genuine tears running down both their faces.

"If I hadn't told her I'd meet her, she wouldn't have been there! She wouldn't have heard-"

"Heard what Ron?"

Potter was holding the weasel at arms length now, assessing him.

"H-how do you know she heard something Ron?"

He stood silent, fist balled and head bowed, as if in meditation.

"Ron? Ron what did she hear?"

"...That I hate you."

There was anger in his bloodshot eyes as he stepped away from Potter.

"The little Mudblood would have told, and then where would we be?" I said calmly as I finally revealed myself, exuding confidence.

Potter just stared.

"You're working for the Voldermort?"

"Why must it always be some epic battle with you Potty? Can't a wizard want to kill you simply because he hates you?"

But his eyes never left Weasley's, which was forming new tears.

"I'm sorry mate."

Weasley ran.

"Well Scarhead, it just you and me now. How would you like to die Potter? Painfully slow like your Mudblood friend?"

I had grown too confident, and let my mouth run away with me. I had always thought that all the talk about Potter being the strongest wizard of our time was just that, but I found I was wrong.

The floors began to shake and the walls cracked. With a simple wave of his hand, I went flying into the back wall. My head swam, as I was picked up and slammed into the floor. I tried to block out the sickening crack I heard as one of my fingers went askew.

"You turned Ron against me!"

"You killed Hermione!"

_I seriously underestimated him,_ I found myself thinking as Potter punished me mercilessly. I fell at last, a muddled heap on the floor; the sheer force of his unbridled power crushing me as I stared into green pools of fury.

"_You _turned Weasley against you," I managed as I spit blood. "All you had to do was not be so self-cent-"

A silent Crucio. I didn't know you could do that. As I lay on the floor, leg bleeding and jerking in pain, I realized this must have been how she felt that night: The hopelessness, the fear as your attacker loomed over, preparing the finishing blow. However, Potter had no clever lines for me, no creative methods of torture. He was just going to kill me, or worse- turn me over to the authorities and have me sent to Azkaban: A fate worse than death.

I struggled to sit up as he paused to pull out his wand and point it at my nose. I was hyperventilating and in excruciating pain, but I wouldn't blink. I was going to die like a man.

"AVADA KEDAVARA!!!"

I quivered under his heavy body, still blinded by the green light.

"Are you all right?"

"RON!"

He had come back! I didn't understand it, and a part of me still doesn't, but at that moment I didn't care.

He lifted the body and hoisted me to my feet. I clung to him, unable to support my own weight; still visibly shaken from my near death experience.

"I'm glad you came."

We stood in silence, realizing we had nothing to say. Those two magic words had said it all.

-End


End file.
